


scars

by MANIAvinyl



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Grief, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, PTSD, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, basically. Tony and Bucky are talking and they realize they’re both just sad, i don’t know how to tag this honestly, they all need hugs alright
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 11:02:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15459939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MANIAvinyl/pseuds/MANIAvinyl
Summary: Tony is hurting, but he isn’t angry. It’s a new kind of pain, the kind where you thought you knew what happened but it was something else entirely. There’s regret, and grief, because the new revelations about his parents and the role HYDRA played have re-opened old wounds.Bucky knows this.(one shot; Bucky Barnes and Tony Stark about Stark’s parents and Bucky’s tragic past. There’s also some Good Pal Clint content)





	scars

**Author's Note:**

> hi hello I hope u like it

“Are you okay?” came the quiet voice from behind the couch. Tony looked up emptily, a piece of him still expecting to see his mother. She used to ask him like that.

“Clint,” Tony murmured.

“Yeah. It’s me.” Clint sat down on the armrest of the couch. It was dark all around except for the city lights glowing through the window. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Tony laughed then, completely humorless. “Then that’s your answer, huh?”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No really, no.”

“Is it about your parents?”

“Did you not just hear me? I said—“

“Today’s when they died, isn’t it?”

Tony swallowed. “Yes.”

But this year it was worse, because now he _knew_ who it was, who really killed them. And this time Bucky was in the building— _his_ building, the old Stark Tower. It was so fucking ironic.

“There’s nothing you can do to change it. There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

“I know. I spent the last twenty years thinking about that.” Tony’s jaw was set forward. “I can still be upset, though.”

“He’s re-opened the scar,” Clint observed. 

“Yep.”

Clint was quiet, picking at his nails and then watching Tony carefully as he stared out the window.

“You know, sometimes I think they’re just a figure of my imagination.” Tony’s jaw was still set forward. “She loved me, though. Maria. I know that for sure, but— _he_ never said it. He never said he loved me.” Tony grimaced at his hands. “Apparently he did, though. He said it once in a video. I just— wish I could’ve seen it for real.”

“Its all unwritten now, probably forever. That’s what bothers you, huh.”

Tony laughed, but it was empty. “You’re still gone through shit, too, haven’t you.”

Clint blinked. “Sure. Yeah.”

“Like what?”

“Tony, I—“ Clint looked tired. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to get you to talk so I don’t have to think about anything else. Now take it away.”

“Tony,” Clint sighed. “You know I really don’t like talking about my own stuff. Like, I _really_ don’t like it.”

“Okay. It’s okay.”

Clint bit his lip. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I tried to push you.”

“What? No. It’s fine, really. That’s just a thing of mine. Don’t worry.”

“Okay.”

Clint nodded. Then they sat in silence, watching the city lights reflect off of the paned glass from their hundred-something story of the Avengers tower, and something inside Clint felt for Tony. The helplessness. 

“You’re gonna be alright, man,” he said gently, touching Tony’s arm before looking to leave. “I’m gonna head to bed. Wake me up if you need anything, swear. If anything gets... worse. You know.”

—

“You’re awake.” 

The voice was deep, and quiet and just broken enough. Tony spun, heart jolting as he realized who it was.

Tony didn’t know what to say so he settled on nothing.

“You’re angry,” Bucky said, hair falling in front of his eyes.

“I’m not angry.” 

“You’re allowed to be angry at me.”

Tony turned around from his seat on the couch, facing the soldier as he stood near the counter. “What are you doing?” he asked. 

“I’m... checking in.” Bucky swallowed, sitting on one of the stools. He looked so small, metal arm and all, that Tony had to blink. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“Listen, Barnes,” Tony said, tired. “It wasn’t you. I get it now. Don’t try and change my mind.”

Bucky nodded slightly. Tony grimaced and moved over so there was an open seat on the couch.

“C’mere.”

“Tony—“

Tony rolled his eyes. “Do it.”

Bucky nodded. When he was seated he shifted uncomfortably. 

“You know, it’s weird thinking of you as a kid,” Tony said, looking at his hands then up at their reflections in the glass. “You’re about sixty years older than me.”

“I feel my age, though,” Bucky mumbled. “Feel like I’ve lived too many lives.”

“You have,” Tony agreed. “And you’ve taken more.”

“I know.”

“But that wasn’t you.”

“I know.”

Tony nodded, watching Bucky’s metal hand as it rested by his side. He was wearing a sweatshirt but Tony could still see the metal as it glinted in the glow.

“Do you sleep at night?” Tony asked, not really expecting an answer.

“No. Do you?”

“No,” said Tony.

Silence. “I remember it all,” Bucky said finally, tears forming in his eyes as he smiled bitterly and shook his head. “You’d think I wouldn’t, but I do. Every detail, like I was watching my own body from the outside.”

“You remember killing my parents?”

A nod.

“And HYDRA? You remember the torturing.”

Bucky laughed emptily.

“You know, I’m starting to think you have it worse than me.”

“Thanks.”

Tony nodded, eyes catching on the vibranium hand. “Can I look at it?” he asked, nodding to the arm. Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Usually I’d say no,” Bucky snorted. “But sure.”

Tony took Bucky’s hand, lifting it up and watching how the metal pieces fit together, moving and shifting with each motion. 

“It’s like clockwork,” Tony murmured, tracing his fingers along the metal seams. “Brilliant.”

“I didn’t make it,” Bucky offered.

Tony snorted. “Yeah, I know that.” 

But then Tony’s mind started to run, faster and faster until the only thing that he could see was the fingers he was touching, the metal hand resting in his, choking his mother to death in the car on that night in December. He could see Bucky’s face, devoid of any emotion. Dark, empty eyes as his mother screams, and then the screams fade away.

Tony gasped, pushing away. He shook his hands out and shut his eyes tightly, rubbing his face.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry...” Bucky was repeating. He knew what happened. Somehow, Bucky always knew.

“No, I—“ Tony swallowed. “I’m sorry. I’m being rude. I know.”

“You’re not being rude.”

“I am. I should be over this by now.” Tony pressed the the heels of his hands underneath his eyes and turned his back. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry,” Bucky whispered. “I do the same thing.”

“What do you mean you do the same thing?” Tony scoffed. His voice was thick.

“I get scared, too. Of what I did.”

“No— that’s not—“ Tony cut off, taking a long, shaky breath. “It’s okay. I’m okay now.”

“You miss them?”

“Who? My parents?”

“Yeah.”

“I think so.” Tony felt guilt bubble up. The correct answer was _of course I miss them_ but he wasn’t even entirely sure that was true. “I miss my mom. That I know.”

“But your dad? Howard?”

“I think I miss what could’ve been.”

“Steve never really had a father, either,” Bucky murmured. “He died in the 107th.”

“Yeah, I know.” Tony leaned, back against the glass. “I guess it’s similar.”

Bucky nodded. He looked more relaxed now.

“Sometimes I wonder how I ended up here,” he said, flexing his metal arm and watching the pieces click together. “Feels like I was never supposed to make it this far.”

“You probably weren’t,” Tony agreed. “What year were you born?”

“1917.”

“Christ. You’re a hundred years old.” Tony grinned. “I’m starin’ at a fossil!”

Bucky smiled, a half-smile. “You sure are.”

“It’s lonely,” Tony said, suddenly. “Isn’t it?”

Bucky blinked. “I have Steve.”

“Before that.”

“Before that I was brainwashed by Hydra.”

“Yeah, all busy killing my parents. But— but you said you could remember everything... it was lonely, wasn’t it?”

Bucky shrugged. “I didn’t have much time for that.”

“Oh.” Tony sat down, chin resting in his palm, elbow on the armrest. “Seventy years of uncontrolled assassinations, of government figures, innocent families... and you can remember it all.”

Bucky laughed bitterly. “What a backstory.”

“What a backstory,” Tony agreed softly. 

“You should get some sleep,” Bucky murmured.

“I thought we went over this. I don’t sleep.”

“You can try.”

Tony pressed his lips together. “Okay,” he said, standing up. “You too, kid.”

**Author's Note:**

> kudos/ comments keep me running broskis


End file.
